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POEMS 



OF 






FAITH AND AFFECTION. 



BY 



Mrs. WM. H. MILBURN. 



" He pra.yeth best, who loveth best 
All things, both great aud small. 
For the dear God, who loveth us, 
He made and loveth all." 




NEW YORK: 

PUBLISHED BY KURD AND HOUGHTON. 

BOSTON: E, P. DUTTOX AND COMPANY. 
- 1866. 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1865, by 

HuRD AND Houghton, 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the 

Southern District of New York. 



RIVERSIDE, Cambridge: 

STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BY 
H. 0. HOUGUTON AND COMPANY. 



To THE 

MEMORY OF THE LOVED AND LOST, 

IS REVERENTLY AND AFFECTIONATELY 
DEDICATED. 



CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Longings 1 

Edith 4 

Little Effie 24 

What ake you? 27 

Lost ! 28 

" DOODIE " 31 

Ahmede 33 

Lines written at Baltimore on the Defeat of 

Henry Clay 49 

" SuspiRiA DE Profundis" 52 

Little Addie 56 

" Return unto thy Rest, oh my Soul! " 61 

Lines on the Death of J. L. C 63 

Saul and Jonathan 66 

Lazarus 69 

The Sacrifice 72 

Over the Sea 76 

God's Child, — not Mine 78 

Rest 83 

Twelve Kisses , 86 

" Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust " 88 

By the Willow 90 

Ramblings at Saratoga 93 

" Frozen Music " 100 



PREFACE. 



This little book makes so small pretensions to 
fame, that it does not even cry mercy to the crit- 
ical. To those who know the meaning of suffer- 
ing, it may come soothingly, and with significant 
sympathy. To the plodders and toilers after this 
world's aggrandizement, it has no message. To 
the few, gifted with " the vision and the faculty 
divine," it may be acceptable. 

Neither the solicitations of friends nor the hope 
of reward has brought it forth. In the language 
of one whose name ever touches us, reverently, 
but sadly, — " To me, Poetry has been its own 
exceeding great reward. It has soothed my 
afflictions; it has multiplied and refined my en- 
joyments ; it has endeared solitude ; and it has 
given me the habit of wishing to discover the 
good and the beautiful in all that meets and 
surrounds me.'* 



vi PREFACE. 

To charm and quell the evil spirit that broods 
so foully and darkly at times over some natures, 
that in the agony of the fierce conflict they must 
either conquer or die, — the effort to be interested 
in, and to accomplish something, is itself a victory. 
The fair fields of imagination lie open, m exuber- 
ant beauty, to all gleaners ; and even a simple 
wild flower may find a welcome amid the cultured 
productions of richer and rarer growth. Give it 
room. Though it may not amuse, it claims not 
to offend, in any wise, the Spirit of Truth and 
Purity, in which "all our works" should begin, 
continue, and end ; and for whose blessing we 
pray. 




POEMS. 



LONGINGS. 

^^,OME to me, Spirits of Hope and of 
©^5S* Gladness, 

Back to my soul come ! and lovingly 
throng ! 
Come ! for my soul is surrendered to sadness, 
The conflict is maddening ! — the bitterness 
strong ! 



Spirit of Song, from my childhood's soft slum- 
bers. 

Breathed by a reverend head that is low ; 

Memories of Childhood, whose guilenesses' num- 
bers 

More of sweet hopes than the future could 
show ! 

1 



2 LONGINGS, 

Spirit of Friendship, the strong and true-hearted, 
Come to me now, from thy home with the blest : 
Life has gone sadly ; since sadly we parted, — 
I, for the warfare ! — thou, for the Rest ! 

Spirit of Love ! let thy soft angel pinions 
Droop o'er my waiting heart fondly again ; 
Blessing and hope, from thy Fairy dominions, 
Breathe as of yore, o'er my quivering pain ! 

Hushed, ah ! all hushed, are ye spirits to cheer 

me. 
Darkness and weariness come in your stead ; 
Life's rugged pathway no succor brmgs near 

me ; 
Hushed are the absent, and silent the dead ! 

Oh ! could I bring you o'er Death's gloomy 

portal. 
Back from the shadowy Land of our trust, 
What were the griefs to a spirit immortal 
Of weary and wandering children of dust ? 

Spirit above all, and over all bending. 
Truthful to sanctify, faithful to guide ; 
Comforter Holy, in mercy descending, 
Spirit of Peace, ever with me abide ! 



LONGINGS, 3 

Fashioned so fearfully, yearning so painfully, 
Here, in the darkness, the fever and strife ; 
Travaihng sorely, with blood on the heartr 

tracks, — 
Fearing, yet hoping, to rise unto life ! 

Thou, only Thou, who the wine-press in sorrow 
Lonely hast trodden, with footsteps in blood ; 
By that pale anguish no mortal may borrow, 
By the fierce shame of the robe and the rod. 

Tempted as we are, yet barring the sinning ; 
Loving — not thus — as we worship in vain ; 
Idols ! — we make them, and give what is 

richest. 
Shadows we find them, to smile on our pain. 

Dust unto dust ! is the end of our striving ; 
Lord, may we learn then ,to bear and forgive I 
Loving through all things, as Thou didst ; 

depriving 
" Death of his victory," thus shall we live. 



1 



EDITH. 

" Alas ! they had been ft-iends in youth; 
But whispering tongues can poison truth ; 
And constancy lives in realms above; 
And life is thorny; and youth is vain; 
And to be wroth with one we love, 
Doth work like madness in the brain." 

" But never either found another, 
To free the hollow heart from paining, — 
They stood aloof, the scars remaining 
Like cliffs which had been rent asunder." 

COLKKIDGE. 

TTNDER the casement, one grand, solemn] 

night, 
A woman stood with lifted eyes in prayer. 
Her soul was strong to suffer and to do ; — 
You saw it in the flash of her dark eye ; 
In the proud bearing of her stately form ; 
In the deep tenderness that shone, like light, 
Through features far too pure and highly cast 
To know the common, meagre ways of life. 
In God's great temple stood she there serene ; 
His heavens o'erarching her, and at her feet 
The beautiful verdure of a sweeping lawn, 
That lay half girdled by a trickling stream, 
And half, by just a little belt of flowers. 



EDITH. 5 

Their breath came to her hke a voice from God ; 
And the soft dew made ans^Yer, hke her tears, 
And hfted high the grand, old straggling elms 
And oaks, tliat spoke of God's great majesty, 
Stretched like a cm-tain, and a ministry 
Of living strength and Heaven's protecting care. 
All Nature's voices spoke to her with power. 
With the deep harmony her soul was filled. 
A wail of anguish rose, no less, to heaven. 
And on her lips the scarcely uttered cry, — 
" My Saviour ! I have given all to Thee ! 
Oh give me something back ! What shall I 

have ? 
I am so poor, and Thou so rich in love ! 
This wreck of life, this weary, wretched thing, 
These strivings of a natiu^e rich and strong 



o ? 



With such vain yearning for a mortal's love. 
Wherewith shall they be satisfied ? In youth, 
Before Thy sacred altars I have bowed, 
And sworn in solemn prayer, low at Thy cross, 
For thee to live and die ! To turn in scorn 
From the world's hollow pageantries, and live 
Thy Ufe of humble trust and earnest tmth. 
I would be Thine forever, and be true 
To that great cause which is the soul's true 
life. 



6 EDITH. 

But wherefore am I stricken thus, to have , 
My dearest loved laid mouldering in the dust, \ 
Or scattered by the breath of angry words ? 
Friendship and love, and childhood's angel 

tones, 
Remembered like the whisperings of heaven, 
Far from me, gone to gladden other life ; 
And it is cold and dreary here below. 
Make room for me, oh gracious Lord of Love, 
Low at Thy feet, for I would walk beside 
The living waters, and my hungry soul 
Feed in the pastures of eternal rest. 
Earth is too much for me ; it has no room 
For one who had no skill in w^orldly arts. 
Or knowledge of the tricks of idle souls ; 
Nor cool nor crafty to contend and stand 
'Gainst evil, powers and prmcipahties ! 
I, shuddering, stand upon the noon of hfe. 
And at my feet lie wrecks of dearest things ; 
And dark wings, flapping in the stifling air, 
With face like the Great Tempter, seem to 

brood 
And wait to grasp a soul still loving Thee ! 
Give me a glimpse of Thee, oh dearest Lord, 
From out this dreary darkness. I believe 
In Thy gi^eat Consolation, more than aJl 



EDITH. 



That life has ever brought me ; in Thy love 
I would embalm my soul, and make it pure." 
Then, from the sighing wind, " a still, small 



voice " 



Came to that woman's heart, and answered, 

" Peace." 
Be comforted, my daughter, in that faith, — 
" The servant cannot be above his Lord." 

Out in the darkness then she wandered forth, 
And thoughts of other days came like a flood, — 
One fatal memory that would not die. 
And did she wish it ? Hope was dead, and 

trust, 
But " Love is strong as death," and love was 

there 
Among the shadows keeping watch for death. 
There was no hope, except what lay beyond 
In the great Resurrection, She had loved. 
And by that purifying flame her soul 
Was fastened high above the wrecks of time. 
It was a consecration of herself ; 
And brought a benediction, like a prayer. 
But there was pain and woe mingled withal ; 
For a great wrong lay like a gulf between 
Her soul and that man's soul, to whom she gave 



8 EDITH. 

What woman has to give but once m Hfe. 
Faithless or fickle, proud, or vain and weak ; — 
Small where she thought him great, too small 

to stand 
Firm, when temptation came to test his love. 
A breath of slander hissed from serpent 

tongues, — 
The Siren call of pleasure and of sin, — 
And he, for this, forgot his manliness, 
His truth and honor, and they trailed the dust. 
What then was left for her % Why, faith in God 
And faith in her own nature ; in that love 
AVhich, failing in its object here below, 
Was still immortal, and must live and grow 
In that white land where souls are clean and 

true, 
And God unto the pure in heart gives peace. 
What more ? Between her soul and his, behold 
A gulf of blood rolled yawning at their feet. 
War's cruel discipline was in the land ; 
And with the bravest, he, in proud array, 
Led on the hosts triumphant in the strife. 
His name was loudly echoed through the ranks, 
And dark Rebellion must succumb and die, 
When spirits such as his were in the field. 
Thus spake the oracles, and she was dumb, — 



EDITH. 9 

For ill her heart there was no sympathy 
With war or strife or bloodshed ; and her home 
Was far away : the country of her love 
Lay in Virginia's valley, 'neath the hills, 
The proud- Blue-Mountain Range, where erst 

she climbed 
The rugged rocks in childhood, or lay down, 
In loving ecstasy, beside the banks 
Where Shenandoah laves the fertile earth, 
And valley, hill, and fields of golden grain 
Show like a fairy picture, when the sun 
Throws o'er this favored land his stream of 

gold. 
Each shrub and tree and rock and babbling 

brook, — 
Each heart - throb of her noble, struggling 

sons, — 
All memories of her grand, heroic dead, 
Were sacred to her as her earliest prayer ; — 
She drank this love in with her mother's milk. 
Each fibre of her body and her soul 
Quivered in agony when she beheld 
The proud battahons marshalled to advance 
And desolate this fair inheritance. 
And Rudolph she had loved so, he must go, — 
" 'T was honor, his profession, glory, fame, 



10 EDITH. 



i 



And conscience," so he told her, and was 

gone ! 
There was for them no parting. Was he false ? 
False to his love, could he be true in aught ? 

Two years had rolled away, dark years of 

crime ; 
And History's blackest page we find in these 
When History shall record it. 

Kudolph was 
No coward in the fight — not that low ! — so 
He had the honor and the glory and the fame ; 
And she was as we found her when she spoke 
To God out in his temple, and the sky 
And quiet stars bore witness to her truth ; 
And God to her spake gently — like Himself ! 

No sound was in the air, and Edith stood 
Lingering, as loth to leave a hallowed place : 
Listening, as though to hear once more a voice 
Which, heard last in that consecrated spot. 
Still filled the air with music, like a dream ! 
She listened, and she heard a low, rich tone 
Rippling the summer stillness, and it said — 
" Edith ! " 
AVas it mdeed a spirit's ministiy 



EDITH. 11 

With audible voice, coming in love's own guise ? 
" Edith ! " And Rudolph stood before her pale 
And sad, with locks dishevelled and unshorn : 
His brow was damp with travel or with pain, 
Or both ; his eye had the old fire, and still 
The same sad look of tenderness, that stirred 
Her heart's deep fountains first, and always 

found 
An answering look to meet it. There he stood 
In his rare manly beauty, but so changed ! 
" Edith, is your love dead ? " 

" Dead, Rudolph." " Then 
I also die, but bless thee for the past, — 
I bless thee now and ever, dearest one. 
For what that love once brought me ; " and he 

fell 
Before her, as men fall when stricken low 
By sword or pestilence or lightning's blast. 
She knelt beside him, and her eyes grew dim 
At such a sight ! — a ghastly wound and 

blood — 
His life-blood flowing thus ! Why, she would 

give 
Her own not to have said the cruel word ; 
But yet she had no right to love him now. 
Was he not faithless ? Was he not her foe ? 



12 EDITH. 

Her country's enemy ? She must not love. 
But she was human, and she must be kind. 
And summoning her maidens, soft they bore 
Him safe within the mansion ; on her breast 
His head lay pillowed as they raised him up ; 
And not a sign of life, but blood was there. 
From Pennsylvania's gory field he rushed. 
Wounded and sick, and weary with the sight 
Of carnage and destruction, to behold 
Once more, ere he should die, the angel face 
Of her whose love was more to him than life. 
For many days and w^eary nights of pain 
He lay, unconscious of the tender care 
That watched untiring o'er his quivering frame. 
No vulgar touch came near, no grating voice 
Disturbed his slumber ; when he slept, she tried 
To rest, but never left him for an hour. 
At last the morning came when this long sleep, 
So like death's slumber, ended ; he awoke 
And looked up, like a child, to the old nurse 
Who stood beside her darling in her gi'ief, — 
For Edith was an orphan, and to her 
The dear old Mabel was a mother kind. 
Brothers and sisters were within her home, 
And she had guarded well their tender youth ; 
And Mabel guarded all. 



EDITH. 13 

She called her child. 
" He will not die of this wound, but he ought, 
For Yankee blood is base, and ought to run 
Like water on the soil they want for gain." 
" Hush, Mabel ! Let me go to him myself. 
And I can tell him all your wishes kind." 
She stood by him once more. " Edith," he 

said, 
" I dreamed an angel stood by me and prayed ; 
I thought it looked like you, and vanished thus, 
As you did, and your love from out my life, 
But was not false, as you were." 

" I was false ! 
And thus you mock me ! You, whose name to 

me 
Was only next to God's, — such reverence 
I bore it ! When I looked into your face, 
I saw no trace of grossness or of sin ; 
There was a purity in eye and brow, 
A majesty of thought in every tone. 
Oh, Rudolph, when I heard that you had named 
My fair name lightly, and had cursed your soul 
With lying words, and subterfuges mean, 
Methought the earth should swallow up such 

deeds, 
Nor suffer anything so vile to live ! 



14 EDITH. 

Of all her weary children, sure was I 
Most wretched and abandoned and forlorn. 
But God came to me, and He gave me peace. 
And now I only want to be at rest." 
" But, Edith, you have listened to a lie ! 
You have been duped as I have ; some foul 

tongue 
Has, from the lower darkness, come to blast 
And enter thus our Eden, as of old. 
Ah, we were all too blessed for this earth ! 
Such ' great joys do not last ' ; but by that past, 
And by the future life, which seems so clear, 
By that strong faith you ever held in Heaven, 
I charge you hear me now ! for I was told 
You turned in haughty scorn from love Hke 

mine ! 
Aye, trampled in the dust my country's flag, 
And vowed that never blood of yours and mine 
Should mingle, save in deadly strife and hate ! 
Aye, more ; that you were wedded, and your 

spouse 
Came from Virginia's ' sacred soil,' to bear 
The fairest of her daughters hence a bride ! 
I could not choose but thmk that this was true, 
And gave my soul to folly and to sin. 
I madly plunged in pleasure, till my brain 



EDITH. 15 

Grew drank and dizzy with the awful stench 
Of natures coarse and grovelhng ; and my 

heart 
Was sick and weary with this sinful life. 
I longed for death, which came not ; in the 

field 
I have implored of Heaven this only boon, — 
That some more worthy life be spared than 

mine. 
And I would expiate my errors thus ! 
Then I was wounded : first, I thought of you, 
And longed for one last look upon that face 
Which made for me all that I knew of heaven ! 
Oh, Edith, darling ! I have loved you well ! 
But you are high above me, and I go 
Once more to fight under the dear old flag. 
And give all that I am to this great cause. 
Remember me at evening in your prayers ; 
And I will look at evening at the stars 
And think of you, my only, dearest love." 
' Think, Rudolph, of the God whose love can 

be 
More than mine ever was. I must be true 
To you at this last meeting. I shall give 
N"o false interpretation to my life, 
Whose lesson is, that love is not for me. 



16 EDITH. 

I 've seen the whole of it ; the verdict is, 
* All, all is vanity.' A woman's heart 
Is but a toy men play with, and forget 
When a new toy approaches ; you believe 
Yourself sincere, and when the next new face 
That pleases you appears, you will be found 
Making the same low homage as to mine. 
I risked my all on one false stake, and failed : 
I have no more to give ! I want no more ! " 
" Then perish every memory of the past ! 
I will be true, as ever, to myself. 
And from this hour give no vain -wishes room. 
Give me my sword and belt, my warrior's plume ; 
I thank you for your keeping : let me go ! 
And find in manly forms a human heart ; 
For, but you are a woman, I would swear 
You had a mailed thing within your breast 
Where one would seek a heart. Away ! away ! 
My best of life was given to your charge. 
And you betrayed that keeping. I am strong 
And proud now, to defy you to the last. 
And when I die, — mark, Edith, — you will 

come. 
And lay that proud head trembling in the dust,* 
At thought of this sad hour. You love me! 

now: 



EDITH. 17 

You dare not tell me nay ; you have no power 
To tear your soul from mine ! And now fare- 
well 
To your proud Southern coldness and disdain. 
Give to me rather, from the rugged North, 
A soul to know and battle for the truth, 
And to be faithful to a loving heart. 
I leave you now to precious dreams of peace ! 
You yet shall feel that I was brave and true, 
And never treacherous to friend or foe." 

" But you are ill. Y'ou cannot leave us thus ! 
You will not — cannot." "Yes I can, and 

will!''' 
He rose and staggered ; then she came and 

laid 
Her hand upon his head, and touched his brow 
With the soft touch he knew so well of yore. 
" I bless thee, oh God bless thee, my beloved I " 
He murmured, turned, and held her to his 

heart. 
And she made answer slowly through her 

tears : 
" Gently, oh gently, precious friend and true, 
Touch with the hand of love this weary 

heart ; 

2 



18 EDITH. 

Tenderly look and truly on the grief 

Which dies before this heaUng breath of love. 

Aye, fold me warm, close, closer to thy heart, 

For I am cold and sick : thus let me die I 

In this great stillness, with thy heart and mine 

Throbbing together, there is naught beyond 

But heaven, and that were wanting, wanting, 

thee 
My soul answers to thine, as deep to deep ; 
And resting thus, beloved, on thy heart. 
All sorrow dies. There is no heaven but love. 
God's great, eternal fulness gives no more. 
He dwells engirdled ^\\i\\ love's holy flame, 
And needs no mortal, for Himself is all. 
But we need one another, dearest love : 
Thy soul is wandering in a dreary maze 
Apart from me ; and mine is desolate, 
Most desolate, without thee. Life and death, 
All forms, all things that have been and that 

are, 
Have harmony and beauty by this test, 
Or lose all. Darling, I am sick for thee ! 
I want thee always ; miss thee everywhere. 
Think of the hours when love was ecstasy ; 
When thoughts as pure as angel's fancies came 
Straight from thy soul to mine ; Avhen, with a 

look. 



EDITH. 19 

Thou couldst control and bring me close to 

thee. 
When looking thus into mj very soul, 
I could not choose but follow when thou wouldst. 
* The nearest nearness ' only satisfies, 
And words are vain from me to thee, beloved. 
The past comes o'er me as a dream of heaven, 
And thy soft words of blessing thrill me through 
With rapture. Without guile our friendship 

seemed, 
So full, so pure, so high above the thing 
The world calls love ; so consecrate to good, 
So full of noble aim and high resolve. 
Looking at both worlds in the hght of love, 
A.nd striving bravely for the right, we two, 
is two strong oaks aspiring to the sky, 
Roots intertwining, branches reaching out 
uike arms imploring love, — imploring Heaven, 
Sad been like Titans, strong to do and dare 
■Ind to withstand the aggravated wiles 
3f the dark spirit in his wiliest hour, 
iVhen human souls are shivering in his grasp, 
Vnd God and Satan strive for mastery. 
Together thus we had the power to stand. 
Chat friendship — it was godlike ! Not a stain 
>f earth could touch it ; not a human foot 



20 EDITH. \ 

Could come within a circle hallowed thus : 
It was a demon's cold and stony glare 
That rushed unbidden to this holy shrine, 
And tried, with slander's breath, to dash it 
out." 

" But ah, it could not. Give me but this hope, 
That thou art true, and wilt be ever strong 
In trust and loyalty to me, and then 
I shall be blessed and secure in thee." 
His hands upon her brow were folded now 
In solemn benediction ; and his lips 
Rested on hers, in perfect truth and love. 

The compact thus was sealed. That holy vow, 
Made first in Paradise, but never yet 
Suffered, in rich completeness, to unfold 
To full fruition, since the woful day 
When, with a sword of flame, the angel stood 
At Eden's gate, and banished out of sight 
The first and purest lovers earth has known. 
Still, visions of that blissful destiny. 
Faint glimpses of its power, come to us. 
As from an angel's wing, to brood a while, 
A little while, and then, behold ! we stand 
In shivering darkness and in dread amaze 
That we grasp nothing but a phantom dim ! 



EDITH. 21 

A few short days, such as make up a life, 
, And he was strong, and ready for the fight. 

Ah, what were sadder than this parting day ! 

Such lovers, with a destiny so dark ! 

Her country's cause lay heavy on her heart. 

Her lover's life was dearer still than this. 
1 She could not speak her grief, but love saw all. 
^^ Be comforted, my darling, and take heart ; 
i A soldier's Avife must learn to smile at death, 

And you will be my wife when next we meet." 

" Rudolph, your precious life — my country's 
I cause — 

I give to God's great keeping ; and to you 

I give this solemn charge : if ever time 

Or chance or circumstance give you the power 
, To do a deed of mercy for the sons 
! Of that brave land of mine, let not your heart 

Withhold such blessing. May the holy Christ 
[So deal with you as you be true to this." 

" I promise. Now God bless thee ! " One 
long kiss, 

One close embrace, heart throbbing against 
heart, 

And he was gone ! 



A soldier, grim and gory from the field, 



22 EDITH. 

Dashed swiftly up the stately avenue, 
His war-horse panting and himself hard pressed. 
He asked for Edith Brantley, and bowed low 
In graceful homage to a face so fair. 
" Your pardon, gentle lady, for this haste. 
I come to bear a package from a friend, — 
My country's enemy, — but on my heart 
The memory of his friendship dwells for aye ! 
' Passing the love of woman ' was the love 
I bore this brave companion of my youth, 
When we together learned the art of war, — 
Together slept beneath the moon's pale light. 
Where Hudson's fairest waters lave the earth, 
And rocks and hills and river mingle there 
All richest forms of beauty and of strength. 
From Alabama's sunny plains I came. 
To serve my country in her throes of pain. 
I met him in the thickest fight — a foe ! 
I risk my life for love of him to bring 
This little package ; it will tell you all." 
He trembled as he laid within her hand 
The sacred charge, and brushed away a tear 5 
Then bowing low, scarce uttered an adieu. 
And, dashing o'er the lawn, was out of sight. 
She, gazing on a letter stained with blood ; 
A long, dark tress, folded with loving care ; 



EDITH. 23 

A short, light curl ; and with it these soft 

words : 
" There 's nothing in my soul but love for thee. 
Edith ! may God be gracious unto thee ! 
Farewell ! " 

Official tidings from the seat of war : 
" Killed — General Rudolph Barton. He was 

brave, 
And foremost in the struggle ; and he stood 
Bareheaded, while his country's battle-cry 
Rolled from his voice like thunder : ' On, my 

men ! 
Strike well for Freedom and the grand old flag, 
And follow me to glory ! ' Thus he fell ! " 




A 



LITTLE EFFIE. 

FAIRY child ! 
A winsome child ! 
Running in glee the meadows all over 
After the bee, the cowslip, and clover ; 
Taking the little dog up in her arras, 
Kissing the little mouse : freighted with charms 
Was the dear, happy child ! 
The wise, loving child ! 

Loving all beautiful things without measure ; 
Taking in natural things such rare pleasure ; 
Looking at falsehood with vision so keen ; 
Scorning the frivolous, hating the mean ; 

The dear, happy child ! 

The wise, loving child ! 



Looking at nature as lovers are prone to ; 
g at life 
shone to 



Looking at life as though something there 



LITTLE EFFIE. 25 

Her spirit, and lifted her highly above us ; 
Faithful, though, always to bless and to love us ; 

The dear, happy child ! 

The wise, loving child ! 

lamest and strong, with a heart ever tender ; 
Grifted with genius amounting to splendor ; 
Taking God's world, as it looked to her, kindly, 
iLoving God's creatures nobly, not bUndly ; — 

The dear, happy child ! 

The wise, loving child ! 

On the bleak shore, where the wild ocean rages, 
Plunging in glee despite warnings of sages ; 
Safe in God's world ; never seeming to borrow 
Aught that could bring either danger or sorrow. 

The dear, happy child ! 

The wise, loving child ! 

Prattling her sweet little fancies in numbers ; 
Taking bright fairy tales up to her slumbers ; 
Making her home a vision of lightness. 
Brothers and sisters alive with her brightness ;-— 

The dear, happy child ! 

The wise, loving child ! 



26 LITTLE EFFIE. 

Looking to God with the soul of an angel ; 
Taking, in meekness, his holy Evangel 
Home to her heart, and learning so surely 
What His own Spirit was teaching her purely ; — 

The dear, happy child ! 

The wise, loving child ! 

White rose and hly, and pale heather-blossom, — 
Spring's choicest emblems, — lay soft on her 

bosom ; 
Under God's holy and solemn protection, 
Leave her with these till the great Resurrection. 
The dear, happy child ! 
The wise, loving child ! 
Ah me ! 




WHAT ARE YOU? 

T^HAT are you, you little elfin thing ? 

Are you a bird just on the wing ? 
What do you mean by flitting about 
This way and that way, in and out ? 

Are you a rope-dancer, balancing there 
Your tiny form in the ambient air ? 
What if you tumble ? You never do, — 
But your antics shiver me through and through. 

Are you a fairy ? for you seem, 
Both when you wake and when you dream, 
To be kin to the liHes, and bear the perfume 
Of all that is lovely, to cheer our gloom. 

Are you an angel ? That is the word. 
Lifted on high by the smile of the Lord ! 
You 've the right place now, for you never 

were still 
Till you spread your wings for the holy hill I 



L" 



LOST ! 

OST ! lost ! lost ! 
Aye, will ye count the cost ? 
Eubies and pearls are light in the scale, 
Diamonds mount up ; all your sciences fail 
To measure the depth and the height 
Of what in a single night 

Befell me when tempest-tossed ! 

It was dark, and I had no light 
But this treasure, 't was pure and bright ; 
I clung to it madly ; 't was all I had 
In that perilous hour to make me glad ; 
And I prayed to the God of Love 
For a token from heaven above, 
To say to me. All is right ! 

Oh God ! how I struggled and wept! 

And in my heart's holiest kept 
The truth that was nearest me night and day, — 
The faith that was part of me, for it lay 



LOST! , 29 

Close to my faith in God, 
In the path by suffering trod, 

For I neither slumbered nor slept. 

A voice from the mighty deep 
Said, Take your rest and sleep. 
There is no more need for anxious thought, 
There is no more heed for treasure bought 
1 At such a price of blood. 
From Creation — from the Flood — 
It is woman's lot to weep. 

I gather up what remains 
Of the fruit of my toil and pains. 
i[t is of a great want my life is full, 
it is of a deep pain my heart is dull. 
And I look to the Great Elsewhere 
For my treasure, — 't is guarded there, 
But never on earthly plains ! 

It was well worth all I gave ; 
It was mighty in power to save ; 
!t came to me freely, as sun and air, 
^ike God's Redemption from despau' ! 
And the Cross is on my brow 
From its glory, even now. 
And this is all I have ! 



30 



LOST! 



Lost ! lost ! Not lost ! 
No, for it wellnigh cost 
The price of a soul ! Can ye know the worth 
Of that which the Saviour, when on earth. 
Said, Tell me out the sum 
To sinners stricken dumb ? — 

Well, then, ye may count the cost ! 




I 



" DOODIE." 

" Of such is the kingdom of Heaven." 

T ILIES, roses, pansies, all 
Round her in a cluster ; 
Playthings, dolls, and books, and fruit, 
All that love could muster 

On her left, the baby-house, 
Filled with many a treasure ; 

Friends, in troops, rejoiced to bring, 
So to give her pleasure. 

On her right, the blessed cross ; 

Li her front, the Saviour, 
Whom she loved and trusted long 

With such sweet behavior. 

At her head, a lovely child, — 
Once her darhng sister, — 

Waiting now at glory's gate, — 
One who sadly missed her ! 



32 « DOODIEr 

On her brow a holy calm, 
Not of earth's belonging ; 

On her lips a blessed psalm ; 
Romid her, angels thronging ! 



From the fields of amaranth, 
From the noontide splendor 

Of the immortal hills of joy. 
More than tongue can render ! 

Where the living waters flow, 

Ever, ever springing ; 
O'er the rose and asphodel 

Heavenly freshness flinging 1 

From the mansions of the Lord 
Come this choir immortal. 

In their hands to bear her up 
Through the golden portal. 

Hush ! the room is holy gi'ound ! 

Breathe no sound of mourning ; 
Lulled to sleep, she wakes no more 

Till the Eternal dawning. 



i 



AHMEDE. 

" One word with two meanings is the traitor's shield and 
shaft: and a slit tongue be his blazon." — Caugasian Prov- 
erb. 

TT is the middle of leafy June. 

The winds sigh lonely a mournful tune ; 
The birds grow silent ; the sunlight falls 
Coldly, as if through dismal halls. 
A maiden walks to a holy tryst ; 
She walks in the sunlight, it turns to mist. 
She is fair, she is pure, the lovely child : 
Seventeen summers soft and mild 
Have touched her brow with a nameless charm ; 
Then child meets woman without alarm. 
She surely comes of a noble race ; 
Her mother's look is in her face, 
Barring the pride ; and her soft, dark eye 
Is strangely bright : not earth, nor sky, 
Nor anything but love, has given 
TMs tender light — so much like heaven ! 



34 AHMEDE. 

To the tryst of love, oh maiden fair, 

Child of beauty, beware ! beware ! 

" Is thy lover noble and brave and true ? 

Would he die for truth, for God, for you ? " 

" Oh yes ; on his brow you may read the sign, 

So pure and good is this lover of mine." 

" Oh maiden, see, the sunshine 's cold. 

The birds are dumb, and dark is the wold ; 

The skies are drooping, the heavy air 

Broods o'er the landscape like despair ! " 

" Away, away ! I will rejoice ; 

I go to the try sting, I '11 hear his voice. 

Let Nature droop, and for me, for me 

Is youth and love by the Linden-tree." 

Under the Linden a manly form 

Stands like the oak amid the storm. 

He looks like Apollo, half divine ; 

On his brow the gods have left their sign 

Of purity, nobleness, strength, and truth. 

Just past the sunny time of youth, 

The glory of manliood is on his brow, 

The strength of heroes is -with him now. 

She comes, his beloved, a fairy thing, 

With her dark bright hair like the raven's wing. 

He touches her brow, he touches her hair 



AHMEDE. 85 

With a soft, light touch hke the summer air. 

Her hand is held with a stronger hold, 

The strength of a love that cannot grow cold. 

'' Ahmede, beloved, you are sad, 

You, — and my heart is only glad. 

Do I not give you enough of love ? 

Speak, what ails my drooping dove ? " 

He drew her close to his throbbing heart. 

And she nestled there, as if naught could part 

Or draw her from this blissful rest. 

No word or sound, but on his breast 

She clung, as if all earth and heaven 

Were there, and no more could be given ; 

When she lifted her head, a holy kiss 

He gave and blessed her for love like this ! 



I Sir Roderick came from over the sea, 
jOh, he was proud as proud could be ! 
I He came with his sword and he came with his 
' gun, 

; For lo ! there was fiorhtino; to be done ! 
I A.nd he was at home in the battle's roar. 
'His brave steed stands at the mansion-door; 
'Fie paws the dust, ho snuffs the wind, 
Flis master lingers too long behind. 



36 AHMEDE. 

Sir Roderick stays in the maple grove 

For his cousm, to whom he would pledge his 

love. 
"" Ahmede, sweet cousin, I fain must go 
To where Virginia's waters flow ; 
Where her fertile plains are dark with the 

blood 
Of heroes, who have to death withstood 
The proud, rebellious sin that lies, 
Like some foul thing, 'neath Southern skies. 
Fj^rewell ! Remember that long ago 
The troth was plighted, 'mid direst woe, 
For thee and me, by thy sire and mine. 
My father Hves, but the loss was thine. 
Thy father left me this legacy ; 
I claim its surety, sweet, from thee. 
Pledge me in honor, pledge me in love. 
Adieu ! One kiss. By the gods above I 
What ails the girl ? " Proudly she raised 
Her lovely head ; he stood amazed ! 
" Sir Roderick, lo ! your good steed waits, 
Fretfully chafing, delay he hates. 
No plighted troth is nune to give ; 
Your sire and mine had it not, believe. 
No man can touch my lips in truth 
But the chosen lover of my youth ; 



AEMEDE. 37 



Purely I stand by your side this day ; 

No man has done it, — no man may." 

He bit his lip, he mounted his steed, 

And rushed o'er the lawn with an arrow's 

speed. 
" She loves another, by Jove, I swear I 
She shall rue the day : she is passing fair ; 
She loves him well. Ah, now I descry, — 
'T is the Poet pale, with the dark blue eye. 
T '11 fight him. No : I '11 let him see 
That the game is false ; she can never be 
His bride ! "What ! marry a Yankee churl ! 
Ahmede — the grandchild of an Earl ? 
She is fair, she is rich, she is proud ; in sooth, 
I want her beauty, her lands, her youth. 



Potomac's waters flow soft and wide 

By the homes of the South in then* stately 

pride, 
And the noble shores of Maryland 

ft/ 

To Virginia's hills stretch forth the hand. 
Ahmede Trevyllian had her birth 
In this lovely portion of God's fair earth ; 
And she loved the river and loved the shore. 
And the hills and rocks, as o'er and o'er 



38 AHMEDE. 

She studied their beauty, and felt the spell 
Of a -weird-like something. Who can tell 
What wonders he in the heart of a girl ? 
What thoughts, what fancies, pure as the 

pearl 
From ocean's depths ; when her soul awakes 
To the first touch of love, and simply takes 
Her place with her peers, and looks to see 
The meaning of Hfe's great mystery. 
Ah yes, these shores to her heart were dear, 
For love's first whisper caught her ear 
In the shade of the oaks that so proudly stand, 
And her baby voice said, " Maryland." 

Her father had left his home of pride 

In his days of youth, with a fair young bride. 

He came to the New World a home to seek ; 

And where the noble Chesapeake 

Throws her beauty from shore to shore, 

Till she washes the feet of Baltimore, 

He found a home, where his heart could rest ; 

And the lovely city's lofty crest 

Greeted the eye, by night and morn. 

From the stately home where Ahmede was 

bom. 
Her poet-lover dwelt within 



AHMEDE. 39 

The city's turmoil and woe and sin. 
He had given his soul to do and dare, 
And take in human woes a share ; 
No suffering heart to him in vain 
Pleaded ; for at the cry of pain 
He rose like a god, and gave to grief 
Whatever he had, to bring rehef. 

Now at that city's temple-door 

Knocked the remorseless god of war ; 

Misery walked a familiar thing. 

Oh, let another minstrel sing 

How she writhed and groaned, that city fair, 

'Neath the iron rule, in her despair ! 

Home of my childhood ! never can be 

More heart- wrung tears than I give to thee ! 

Thy maidens so fair, thy sons so brave, 

Who kneel in prayer, who rush to the grave ; 

From hill to liill, from shore to shore, 

A wail goes up for Baltimore ! 

And Maryland waits till God shall speak, 

Be free, proud land of the Chesapeake ! 

Sir Roderick straight to the poet's home 
Wended his way ; and the fretted dome 
Of his library told, and the sculptures there, 



40 AHMEDE. 

And art's pure models so brave and fair 
From every clime, a token and grace 
How rich was the poet's dwelling-place. 

A traitor's soul has never a mate 

In the mind of a nature simple and great. 

A lie goes straight to his heart like steel ; 

He cannot intrigue, he can only feel. 

The lie went home when Sir Roderick told 

His cousin had sold herself for gold. 

She had no heart ; girls do not have ; 

She had laughed in scorn that she ever gave 

A thought to a poet whose love could be 

No match for the rank of nobility. 

He would take her home to his English isle, 

And with honors and gi^andeur her time beguile. 

Herbert Godolphin looked aghast ; 

His hand across his brow he passed. 

As if to shut out all the sun ; 

Then softly murmured, " Thy will be done." 

Many a weary day has passed 

Since Ahmede Trevyllian looked her last 

On the face that was dearest of all on earth. 

She could not doubt the matchless worth 

Of him she had worsliipped with love so vain ; 



AHMEDE. 41 

She said, " Time \Yill bring him back again." 
But she faded and drooped from day to day ; 
Weak heart of woman, — ah, welladay ! 

War's loud trumpet was in the land ; 
War's foul deeds went hand in hand 
With murder and rapine and lust and pride ; 
While hero-souls fought side by side, 
And fools in high places laughed to see 
The end of long-hated chivalry. 

Herbert Godolphin stood in the van 

With Nature's nobles, an honest man. 

A holy, patient, and godlike zeal 

Gave him to duty through woe and weal. 

By the bed of death, in the battle's din, 

He labored and loved ; no form of sin. 

No suffering, took from his heart the power 

To help and to pray. When storm-clouds 

lower, 
God's agents stand strongest : the camp of fire 
About them lifts all true souls higher. 
A surgeon's skill he had sought and found ; 
By day and night on the battle-ground 
He walked and watched, and gave in faith 
The promises holy that conquer death. 



42 AHMEDE. 

Where Shenandoah's waters pour 

In Potomac's lap a golden shower, 

And mountains high and boulders rise, 

Like Titans struggling to the skies. 

And rocks cleft grandly from peak to base, 

As though Jove's thunderbolts from their place 

Were hurled from high Olympus down, 

And dashed in pieces by Zeus' frown ! 

Making the panting, wondering earth 

Aghast at whether in anger or mirth, 

In sport or fury, the gods had come 

With terror to strike a nation dumb ! 

But whether in pleasure, or whether in wrath. 

Where immortals tread is a glorious path ; 

And strength and beauty and grandeur are found 

On Harper's Ferry's sacred ground. 

Sacred ! The blood of a noble race 

Has flowed like her waters for tyrants base. 

Sacred ! Each rood of her reeking soil 

Is crying for vengeance ; her children toil, 

And strive and cry, in their bitter pain, 

For homes made desolate, brave ones slain. 

Antietam's plains send forth a dirge 

For the day when a merciless human surge 

Rolled darkly and wildly, rank upon rank 

Rolled through the valley, rear and flank ; 



AHMEDE. 43 

Brother 'gainst brother ! hate for hate ! 
Oh God ! is this Freedom, or is it Fate ? 

In the front of the fight that raged that day, 

Sir Roderick Trevylhan kept at bay 

A host, it seemed, of warriors proud. 

He fought for fame ; but his head was bowed 

When the Black Horse Cavahy, fresh and 

strong. 
Surged with their Stewart proudly along, 
With nodding plume, at stately pace, — 
God send the Briton an hour of grace ! 
He falls, as the wicked, to rise no more ; 
And his men in sorrow their leader bore 
Away from the carnage, soon meet for the 

grave ; 
They honored him though as men honor the 

brave. 

The battle was over, the day was done ; 
The lingering rays of the setting sun 
Threw o'er the landscape a dreamy light ; 
The skies looked down from their starry height 
On the saddest sight, — that verdant plain 
So red with the blood of brave men slain. 



44 AHMEDE, 

Herbert Godolphin was there that day ; 

Where the fight was thickest his duty lay ; 

O'er the deserted battle-field 

He walked hke an angel ; the good old shield 

Of faith to guard liim, and on his brow 

A halo of glory. No grief could bow 

That li)fty soul ; for his mission pure 

Was settled ; his watchword high — endure. 



Neai^ the foot of a spreading oak, 

Where no sounds but Nature's the stillness 

broke, 
A man lay gasping in loneliness ; 
Herbert was near to this deep distress. 
" Water, for Christ's sake ! " he heai'd him 

say, 
And his steps were turned where the dying lay. 
Sir Roderick, his rival, could it be ? 
So gay, so proud, when, coldly he 
Had crushed from his heart the love of youth, 
Dashed the rich wine without care or ruth ! 
The dying man with a heavy groan 
Lifted his eyes, and they glared like stone 
On the noble heart, so sorely tried : 
" Ahmede," he murmured, " my Southern 

bride. 



I 



AHMEDE. 45 



She loved me not ; but to you was given 
That love which was more to me than heaven ! 
I wronged jou both ; with my dying breath 
I take back the lie. When cold in death 
My body lies, oh send it, pray, 
To the home of my childhood, far away ! 
On England's soil may my dust repose. 
And when this rebellion draws to a close, 
Let my name stand fairly, as heroes' should ; 
I have cancelled my sins with my heart's best 

blood." 
•' No sins are cancelled thus, I trow ; 
The sacrifice offered was long ago. 
Jerusalem's hills still echo the groan 
Of Him who on Calvary did atone 
For sins of every grade and hue. 
Sir Roderick, what you have to do 
Is, trust in that sacrifice, freely given. 
In that is your only way to heaven." 
Then in the silent evening air 
Went up from pale lips a holy prayer. 
God save the soul that is struggling here ; 
God help the sinner, with no help near ! 
The petted heir of a noble race 
Thus breathed out his life in a desert place ; 
And the heart of his helper waxed sad and full 



46 AHMEDE. 

As Sir Roderick prayed, " God be merciful ! " 
Sadly, oh sadly, through copse and grove, 
Herbert looked down upon hearts that love. 
Sisters with arms twined round the dead ; 
Lovers holding a sainted head ; 
Fair young girls drenched mth gore that came 
Fi^om hearts that oozed out 'mid glory's flame ; 
Mothers seeking young heroes given. 
In the flower of youth, straight up to heaven. 
Oh, shades of the blessed ! can ye know 
The throes of your country, in ashes and woe. 
For she writhes in the furnace with anguish 

mid, — 
" Woe to the nation whose king is a child ! " 

Mount Vernon wails for the noble dead. 
And the home of Clay is with cowards bestead ; 
Proud Arlington mourns her lofty state, 
For her halls and groves are desolate. 
Our race of heroes has passed away. 

My story Angers. My hero goes 
From tliis scene of horrors and mortal woes 
To a peaceful home in Maryland. 
Potomac's waters still flow as grand, 
StiU unsullied by human strife and gore ; 



AHMEDE. 47 

But the wail goes up forevermore 

From her plains in their beauty, her hills m 

their pride, 
That have nui-tured heroes, who nobly died 
For what they believed was the cause of truth ! 
From the rich, brave hearts of struggling youth 
These shores are bathed with a purple flood, 
The chrism of Freedom, baptized in blood. 
There is no remission without this price ; 
The blood of martyrs is hallowed thrice : 
In the church, in the world, this precious 

leaven 
Rises and purges high natures for heaven ! 



Ahmede lay sleeping beneath the flowers 
That trailed o'er one of the loveliest bowers 
Of Southern soil and breezes born. 
A di'eamy sleep ! How pale and worn 
The frail child looked ; a gentle sigh 
Escaped, and a tear from her deep, dark eye ; 
And she murmured in sleep, " Oh love, how 

long ? 
Herbert, beloved ! " Then a song 
From a wild bird's throat entranced the air. 



48 



AHMEDE. 



It woke her. Who was kneehng there ? 
Herbert ! No words. The patient love 
Had borne and conquered ; heaven above 
Looked down and blessed the faithful pair 
As thej knelt together in fervent prayer. 




LINES 

WRITTEN AT BALTIMORE ON THE DEFEAT OF HENTIY CLAY. 

TS it SO ? Has America dared to proclaim 
From her Capitol's height the inglorious 
name 
Of one whose rare excellence lies, to be sure, 
In the unenvied virtue of being obscure ? 

Has America done this? We hail then no 

more 
The spirit that breathed in our fathers of jore ; 
For Virtue and Freedom they struggled and 

bled, 
But Virtue 's dishonored, and Freedom lies 

dead! 

Oh shame to my country ! thus ingrate to one 
Whose course in time's pathway has been hke 

the sun ; 
Increasing in splendor the higher it rose. 
And excelling in glory the nearer its close. 

4 



50 LINES. 

Alone and unrivalled, the land of his birth 
Might hail him as peer with the greatest of 

earth ; 
But his country, unworthy, dishonors her trust. 
And her proud-spreadmg Eagle lies low in the 

dust! 

But no ; there are millions whose hearts would 

rejoice 
In the glorious sway of the chief of their choice ; 
The love which they bear him would lead tliem 

to death. 
And will more than atone for the pestilent 

breath 

Of slanders as foul as the spirits that came 
From the blackness of darkness to tarnish his 

fame ; 
Let the abject revile him, he still may depend 
On American hearts, — they '11 be true to the 

end. 

No place can exalt him : his vu'tues alone 
An eminence prouder than temple or throne 
Impart to his genius, — a lustre so pure, 
That monarchs might envy, yet fail to secure. 



LINES. 



61 



3e will live in the hearts of the good and the 

brave, 
^nd the grief of a nation shall hallow his 

gi'ave ; 
ind our annals forever in brightness display 
The unsullied name of our own Henry Clay ! 




"SUSPIRIA DE PROFUNDIS." 

•pATHER, the way is dark ! 

Groping, I cannot find Thee, and 
mj soul 
Is stifled in this grief beyond control ; 
I long to be at rest. 

Speak to me, gracious Lord ! 
I suffer, being human, and I fear 
Because I loved Thee, tried to feel Thee near, 

And I, alas ! have failed. 

I could not find the way; 
Falsehood and treason compassed me about, 
And, Hke a child, I struggled and cried out, — 

" God, help me, or I die ! " 



The trial 's long and fierce ; 
Each sense and nerve straining to agony, 
It clutches me at midnight, like a fiend. 

And dies not with the day ! 



^^SUSPIRIA DE PROFUNDIS." 53 

Thou madest me and mine ; 
In Thy hands are the comers of the earth, 
The strength of hills, the power of human birth, 

And Tliine the strength of Love ! 

It bathes the earth in balm ; 
Its glory, in the sunshine and the flower, 
Oometh to happy hearts, a gentle shower, 

Like early morning dew. 

But I am not as they : 
Thou gavest me a nature strong and brave ; 
I wanted all, or nothing ; and I gave 

My soul to find this out, — 

This fearful mystery 
Of life and its deep yearnings, and to see 
The meaning of its mortal agony, — 

And I am still and blmd ! 

Still in this mighty grief 
Thy hand is laid upon me, and I bow 
Meekly, because I know that only Thou 

Couldst chasten thus to save ! 

I have been proud and wild ; 
Wayward and foolish. I would speak to Thee, 



54 ^'SUSPIRIA DE PROFUNDISr 

Because I know that this great mystery 
Is Thine, — and I am too. 

Give me a little room 
To breathe and to approach Thee, for I feel 
That earth is harder than the tempered steel, 

And has no place for me. 

Like a lost child I stood. 
Looking out in the darkness, as to find 
Something to show me that among my kind 

•i. was not desolate. 

No sound or comfort there ! 
The voices that have soothed me are asleep, 
Or vv^alking streets of glory, and I weep 

Because they answer not. 

Thou art the same through all ; 
Thou, holding earth and heaven, couldst not 

come 
To a weak woman's wailing, smothered dumb 

With anguish like a pall. 

Oh ! weak and sinful heart ! 
To whom Christ cometh with no earthly sign ; 



"SUSPIRIA DE PROFUNDISr 55 

But, bearing high the cross and life di\ane, 
Says, " Take, and learn of me." 

" Learn what the lilies say ; 
Take the miJd yoke of patience, and be true ; 
Weary and heavy-laden, unto you 

Christ giveth heavenly rest." 




LITTLE ADDIE. 



"Y\7T[THIN a pleasant Southern home 

Was seen a little maid 
Busily gathering summer flowers 
Beneath the fig-tree's shade. 



Merrily she ran along 

The pleasant garden-walk, 

Singing a low, sweet, childish song, 
Mingled with pretty talk. 

She took her little bonnet off 
And threw it on the ground, 

And then herself curled up beside, 
Looked wonderingly around. 

Thus rang her low and lovely voice, 
Which lingers in my ears 

liike music faintly borne to earth 
From higher, happier spheres : 



UTTLE ADDIE. 51 

" Mj mother says there is a land 

So very far away 
That it is hard to find the road ; 

And we must ever pray 

*' Our blessed Lord, who always keeps 

His little lambs from harm, 
That He will lead us safe alonoi; 

With His almighty arm. 

" I think it must be very dark 

Along that lonesome road ; 
And mother says she 's very tired 

And cold, — and she is good. 

" She says that she has tried to walk 

This narrow, rugged way ; 
That God is good, and means to turn 

Its darkness into day. 

*' I wonder if such flowers grow 

In that fair land above 
As these, — they are so pretty, and 

Their fragrance so I love ! 

" I '11 ask my mother : I should like 
To go there, if 't is true 



58 LITTLE ADDIE. 

That little children have a home, 
And flowers, and waters blue." 

A few short years, and Addie laid 

Her listless, weary head. 
In anguish gi-eat and torturing, 

Upon a dying-bed. 

God's love ! how seemed it then and where ? 

That such a radiant child 
By months of suffering must atone, — ' 

For what ? — so undefiled. 

So strong, so true : a noble cliild 

Of a most noble race ! — 
Grace, Genius, Beauty, — thirteen years, — 

All this, and leave no trace ? 

To pass away, at this fair age, 

In torture to the last. 
And leave behind a broken heart, 

A household overcast ! 

Oh God ! is this the end of all ? 

Must woman weep and wail, 
And travail to the death, then see 

Her fi-uit and flower fail ? 



LITTLE ADDIE. 59 

Was this the end ? That fairy child 
Torn thus from earth awaj, — 

So young to bear the heavy cross 
Of anguish and dismay ? 

This, oh not this : that little head 

Was laid in wealcness down, 
Just as the solemn angel came 

With glory and with cro^yn ; 

And the last song she sang on earth 

Among our little band 
Was, " Round the throne of God in heaven 

A thousand children stand." 

*' Addie, God wants you home ; you know 

You '11 be no stranger there ; 
Lift up your heart to Christ the Lord, 

In fervent, humble prayer.' 



?> 



Li meekness bowed the gentle head, — 
" The river 's dark, my child ; 

Upon the verge I stand with you, 
But Christ will walk beside 1 " 

" Is He still with you, Addie, — say ? '' 
A heavenly answer told 



60 



LITTLE ADDIE. 



The mother's heart that all was risht, — 



o"^> 



Her lamb was in the fold ! 



Thus came the Angel of the Lord, 
With gentle hand and kind, 

And took the child so tenderly, 
He left no sting behind. 




"RETURN UNTO THY REST, OH MY 
SOUL ! " 

, rpOO long, oh soul of mine, too vainly wan- 
' dering, 

Laying on earthly altars thy soul's trust ; 
1 Too sadly, in thy wild devotion, squandering 

Immortal treasure on frail things of dust ! 

j' Come back, oh restless one, and let the teaching 
That sorrow brings thee find its holy aim ; 
God's plan to save thee read, too far out- 
reaching 
Thy puny thought His providence to blame. 

Thou hast not turned thee, mocking, from thy 
Saviour, 
Nor on the hallowed cross laid hands of 
pride ; 
Nor, self-exalting in thy vain behavior. 
Withheld due worship from the Crucified. 



62 RETURN UNTO THY REST. 

No, none of these ; yet hast thou idly given 

To earth too much, and found too httle there. 
Youth, Hope, and Love ! — where are they ? 
thou hast striven 
Yainly, proud heart ! earth flings thee back 
Despair. 

Now gather up the fragments of thy being, 
And bring the offering to the only Truth ; 

Not fi-esh and whole, before the great All- 
Seeing, 
Thou comest now as in thy early youth. 

No, thou canst never find the scattered treas- 
ures 

That in the wilderness lie all unblest ; 
But human guilt true penitence outmeasures : 

Return then, weary spirit, to thy Rest ! 




LINES 

ON THE DEATH OF J. L. C. 

A YE, bear him gently to his rest, 
Bury him from your sight ; 
But lay upon his tranquil breast 
An emblem pure and bright. 

For genius dwelt within the clay 

Ye reverently tend ; 
And to his worth this tribute comes, 

The offering of a friend. 

I knew him well in other years, 
And other scenes than these ; 

And his sad exit brings a flood 
Of gushing sympathies. 

Oh where are now the gifted few 
Who, in his youthful days. 

Together toiled for honor's meed, 
And woman's dearer praise ? 



64 LINES 

Some in high places take the palm 

To highest merit given ; 
Some scattered o'er the weary earth, 

And some at rest in Heaven ! 

Oh, let the dirge be soft and low 
That mourns his early doom ; 

And gently bear the stranger forth 
Unto his lonely tomb. 

Bury him where the sunbeams lie, 
And pale wild flowers bloom. 

That both may clamber where at last 
The exile found a tomb. 

His early life Avas nurtured near 
The spot that saw its close ; 

*T was fitting there the w^anderer 
Should find his last repose. 

No home had he on earth beside, — 
No household-fires for him ; 

A lonely man he lived and died ; 
No hearth his loss will dim. 

But though no mother's tears shall fall 
Over the early dead. 



ON THE DEATH OF J. L. C. ^^ 

No father's manly grief burst forth 
For worth and genius fled, — 

A brilliant circle knew his youth 

And early promise rare ; 
They loved his purity and truth, 

They '11 bless the kindly care 

That in the far-off, sunny land. 

Where noble hearts belong. 
Found tears to give his memory, 

As friendship gives a song. 




SAUL AND JONATHAN. 

J^ Y father, here am I ; what wouldst thou ? " 
'' Mj son beloved, I would speak to thee 
About the son of Jesse. Tell me now, 
Wilt thou not quit this foolish fantasy. 
This wild, fond yearning for a shepherd boy, 
And take the state and dignity which is 
Thine own inheritance ? while he, forsooth, 
Is but a lad, in i:)overty obscure ! " 
" My father, how can I forsake that which 
Is part of me ? My very heart and soul 
Are one with him, — the chosen of my youth. 
Can I forsake the feelings of my heart ? 
No more can I forsake my dearest friend." 
" What seest thou, my son, in this poor youth 
So great and noble, that thy heart can thus 
Turn to him with a love so passionate, — 
Passmg the love of woman ? Can it be 
His ruddy countenance, his music, or 
The strength wherewith he overcame and laid 
The arrogant Philistine in the dust ? " 



SAUL AND JONATHAN. 67 

Then answered Jonathan : "My father, know, 
Not for his lofty mien, nor art, nor deeds, 
I love this man ; but for his ' noble self.' 
The reason why I cannot tell ; but know 
This much, that as I love my soul. 
And next to God, I love this friend of mine." 
Then, on the brow of Israel's monarch came 
The shadow of a dark and fearful cloud : 
" My son, hast thou no wisdom ? Dost not 

know 
That from thy brow this man will take the 

crown, 
And king of Israel will reign supreme ? " 
The face of Jonathan grew strangely bright, 
And, turning upwards his mild eyes, replied : 
*' My father, let it be so : for behold. 
We two have made a covenant, and the Lord 
Is witness ; for before Him we have sworn 
To stand together through life's fitful storm. 
What matter whether he or I reign ? I 
Shall always be with him, and nearest too 
Of all that hve and breathe upon his smile. 
I am to David as he is to me. 
The best-beloved of a trusting heart." 
Then seized the king his messenger of wrath 
To smite his son, — the cruel javelin ; 



68 



SAUL AND JONATHAN. 



1 



For in his soul he loved no human thing, 
And in his household had no real friend. 
From that cold presence wandered Jonathan, 
And ate and drank not many days, because 
His heart was saddened ; for his only friend 
Was wandering and an outcast, turned away 
From his companionship, and from the hopes 
That friendship cherishes, divinely sweet. 
Thus is it ever with the noblest love, — 
Earth has no sympathy to give it room ! 




LAZAEUS. 

"Behold how He loved him." 

WHEN on tlie ear of majesty 
From woman's heart was pealing 
That cry of faith and agony, 
Her earnest love reveahng, — 

Which to the distant Lord the word 
A sister's love was sending, — 

" Behold he whom Thou lovest lies 
'Twixt life and death depending ! " 

The Lord so calmly heard that cry 
That all who saw Him wondered 

Why friendsliip did not rush to save 
Such ties from being sundered. 

But from His lips no message came,— 

No useless word or feeling ; 
" For God's great glory this is done, 
And God's shall be the heahng." 



70 



LAZARUS. ^ 

" Lord ! " from Judea's daughter came 

This wail to Jesus sivin"-, 
" If Thou hadst been beside us then, 

Our brother would be living-." 

" Martha, thj brother shall aiise 
From this unwonted sleeping- : ^* 

" I know, — the resurrection day," — 
Said Martha, sorely weeping. 

" I am the Resui-rection ; " "I 

Give life and death forever ! 
Believe in me, and from thj heart 

No human ties can sever ! " 

When Mary came, and low before 
Her Lord was prostrate lying, 

" If thou hadst come, O Lord, to save 
My precious brother dying ! " 

Then o'er the angel-like repose 
Of features more than human 

A shadow passed, like grief, to see 
The helpless grief of woman. 

Tears from the Lord to fiiendsliip's claim 
Fell streaming o'er his creature, 



LAZARUS. 71 

And heavenly love for human grief 
Illumined every feature. 

Faith is so small in this low world, 

And love so like delusion, 
We grasp them feebly through the dark, 

The noises, and confusion. 

But Christ to woman's love was true, 

And bountiful as tender ; 
He gave not only godlike help, 

With calm yet regal splendor, 

But gave withal soft human tears. 
And comfort as behooved him ; 

And Jewish hearts in wonder thought, 
" Behold how much he loved him ! " 

Love, friendship ! these are growths too rare 

On earthly soil to flourish ; 
They witlier in the cliilling blast, 

Or by the Avayside perish. 

But once the Lord Avith sanction high 

Such holy ties approving, 
To all true hearts this lesson gives, — 

There 's nothing lost by loving. 



THE SACRIFICE. 

" I am the Resurrection and the Life ! " — John xi. 25. 

T^HE light in the household fires was dim. 
No sound — save a mother's soft, low 

hymn : 
It rose and fell on the silent air ; 
It rose, but disturbed not the sleeper there. 
For within the verge of another land 
That fair young child was about to stand. 
Oh, look your last on the linglets curled 
In golden wreaths ; for now unfurled 
Are the sails of that sure and steady bark 
That shall bear, through the coldness and the 

dark. 
The sunshine from thy hearth a^vay ! 
The one that is neai'est thee : mother, pray ! 
Or thy heart will break as he hails the shore 
With its wild, sad dirge of nevennore ! 
Oh for the tread of the little feet 
That shall never more thy comuig greet ; 



THE SACRIFICE. '^3 

Oil, for the rippling laugh whose flow 
Was the sweetest music of long ago ; 
Oh, for the radiant look of love 
With the soft, blue tinge of the sky above ! 
Mother, the angels speak to thee ; 
Pray for the soul about to be free ! 
Pray for thine own, as it gives to God 
The noble boy, ere liis feet have trod 
The meagre ways of a selfish world ! 

Praise rather : let your song rise clear ; 
No funeral dit'ge should the angels hear ; 
But a song of triumph as they bear 
The lovely burden through the air. 
Be strong ! for the heart within thee breaking 
Will shout ^dth praise on its own awaking ; 
Strong for thy boy then, give him to Heaven 
Cheerfully ; though the chords be riven 
Of deathless affection, let him rise, 
A "free-will offering," to the skies ! 

Lo ! the Madonna hanging there, 
Clasping her babe with the golden haii-. 
Would throw around thee the mighty spell 
Wrought by the genius of Raffaelle. 
See ! in her eye is the Roman soul, — 



74 THE SACRIFICE. 

The high, brave look of proud control ; 
She holds the child with a queenly grace, 
And a holy joy on her pure young face. 
Look on her brow, and read me there 
Earth's grief and love, but without the despair 

She hfts her eyes to that holy chann, — 

The royal child on a maiden's arm, — 

Which has borne to palace and hall and heartl 

Its mission of peace, for the children of earth. 

For ages that face of calm repose 

Has brought a balm for human woes. 

Now by the bed of death it beams, 

Pure and holy as childhood's di*eams ; 

Now that mother remembers well 

The story which Evangels tell. 

How Christ the Lord was, Avhen a child, 

Strong to suffer, yet undefiled ! 

How, when to manhood's glorious strength 

The Babe from Bethlehem grew at length, 

The torture came, the shame, the sword, 

The cross that bore creation's Lord ! 

Now on her knees she bends to pray 

Humbly, a life is fast ebbing away ; 

She speaks to God, and the murmurs run,— 

" Not my will, but Thine be done ! " 



THE SACRIFICE. 75 

Thus as the tones of that lofty prayer 
Rise through the mists to heaven's pure air, 
The angels come and bear away 
That spirit pure from its house of clay. 
And the mother's heart, — oh, ask no more ! 
For her head was bared on the cold, hard floor ; 
And she lay there wishing that God would 

come 
From his high, great heaven, to call her home. 
But words of friendship came instead : 
" Rise ! bear your burden and bury your dead. 
And go your way, through this thorny life ; 
For victory cometh after the strife ! " 



I-' 

I 




I 



OVER THE SEA. 

T SAY to my soul, Be strong, 
For the jouniey is not long. 
The storm-clouds roll and the billows roar ; 
The breakers dash from shore to shore ; 
While the winds sigh sadly, nevermore ! 

And tliis heart of mine echoes the sea. 

The good bark has had her day. 

With flag and pennant gay 
She sailed when the sun rose bright and clear ; 
She was nobly manned, and the hearty cheer 
Of her crew was loud as they bade her steer 

For the haven over the sea. 

Now she labors ; she 's leaking fast ! 

Will she reach the shore at last ? 
She is strained, stripped, battered, her colors 

gone. 
And her crew, — where are they ? Only one 



OVER THE SEA. 



77 



Left in the darkness and cold alone ! 
And the rest are lost on the sea ! 

I say to my soul, Look above ! 

For the steady hand of love 
Is guiding the bark with a promise sure 
That she will not founder ; only endure, 
And her lost, that were worthy and wise and 
pure. 

Will come again over the sea ! 




GOD'S CHILD, — NOT MINE. 

" Take this child and nurse it for me, and I will give thee 
thy wages." — Exodus ii. 9. 

T TOOK the child and nursed it well ; 

From my own bosom grew 
The life of that fair life so bright, 
Fresh as the morning dew. 

God's child, — not mine. I never felt 

That I had any claim 
To radiant beauty such as that ; 

'T was only mine in name. 

We called him Harry ; it was well 

For such a noble boy, — 
Such manliness, such babiness, 

Such overflowing joy ! 

His hearty laugh rang from the hills, 
O'er Saratoga's vales ; 



GOD'S CHILD, — NOT MINE. 79 

His golden hair was bright as com . 
Rippled bj southern gales. 

In Newport's ocean-girdled isle 

His merry voice was heard ; 
Taldng old Ocean in his arms, 

Playing, as we have heard 

The Vikings did of old, who took 

Hold of the mighty deep. 
And played and laughed and conquered too, 

Then lay them down to sleep. 

Oft in the childhood nursery songs 

His baby tones were heard ; 
And " I can tarry but a night " 

His first connected word. 

God ! it was my first to Thee, — 
The offering was of blood ; 

1 would not feel that this could be 

From Him whose name is good ! 

I thought that science coldly tried 

Or failed to try, for me. 
What other, happier mothers found 

Was bountiful and free. 



80 GOUS CHILD, — NOT MINE. 



I thought — God knows — I thought f/iai life 



So blended mto mine, 
Was wasted cruelly by man, 
Like over-fi'eioi;hted wine. 



o 



It was so rich, so bright, so full, 

So redolent of charms ; 
It spoke of manhood's glorious strength, 

And not of Death's alarms ! 

" Take me a little while, mamma, 

Only a little while ! " 
The soft blue eyes looked up to mine 

With heaven's own angel smile. 

" Now sing to me, my mother dear. 
About ' the shining shore ' ; " 

And on my heart the sunny curls 
Lay streaming, — golden ore ! 

The chorus rolled, while midnight's chime 

Rang o'er the startled air ; 
But never more came back to me 

That smile so bright and fair I 

God gives and takes, and tries to save 
All souls which He has made ; 



GOUS CHILD, — NOT MINE. 81 

And from the blood of woman's heart, 
And from the gloomy grave, 

He wreathes a crown, of crimson hue, 

And binds it on her brow, 
And says, " Hereafter thou shalt know 

The meaning, but not now ! " 

A crown of thorns ! it weareth well. 

And seemly too and long ! 
It has no fragrance, beauty none, 

To suit a courtly throng ; 

But when the Sacred Head which bore 

Its virtue and its woe. 
In splendor rose, triumphant o'er 

The grave and every foe, — 

From that august example came, 

To waiting hearts and true, 
A glory which no cross can shame. 

No suffering subdue. 

" A little while ! " and then behold 
The angel who shall stand. 



82 GOUS CHILD, — NOT MINE. 

One foot upon the raging sea. 
The other on the land, — 

Swearing by Him who liveth aje, 

The mystery is done ! 
Time is no longer ! — mortals see 

Eternity begun ! 



-^^E^i^ 




REST. 

" There remaineth a rest for the people of God." — Hebrews 
iv. 9. 



T^HERE is a rest beyond the reach 

Of tune's revolvnig years ; 
Above all power of thought or speech, 
Its glorious hope appears 

To them that, in the holy faith 

Of our ascended Lord, 
In meekness bear his sacred cross, 

And trust His mighty word. 

Girded with strength, they journey on 
With bleeding feet and bare ; 

Looking in faith within the vail, 
They see their Leader there. 

On, on they march, though broken hearts 
And shrinking flesh attest 



84 REST. 

That, though they have the victory, 
They do not have the Rest. 

They take the symbol of their faith 

With noble courage high ; 
And bear it bravely in the strife, 

By this to live and die ! 

That cross hath such complete success 

The erring soul to save, 
That life is holy, loss is gain. 

And victory o'er the grave. 

Far off in that white land of souls, 
Tried, comforted, and blest, 

They sing the covenant song of God 
Entered into His rest. 

O Lord, behold thy stricken ones 

Along this weary way ! 
Thy sinful children, fainting 'neath 

The burden of the day. 

To " seek and save the lost," dear Lord, 

In mercy thou didst come ; 
Gracious Redeemer ! gather in 

Thy wanderers, — bring them home. 



REST. 85 

Unspotted through this filthy world 

Thy radiant garments trail ; 
And not one sinful, suffering child 

Within their reach can fail. 

"With anguished hearts and yearning love 

To Thee, O Christ the Lord, 
They look, and touch the streaming folds 

That heavenly life afford. 

Not one so far from Thee, but when 

That raiment fair is seen. 
Can reach and touch the hem that comes 

Themselves and woe between. 

To thee, the Great Physician, Lord, 

Our sickening souls aspire ; 
Give us the " balm of Gilead " now : 

Saviour, lift us higher ! 




TWELVE KISSES. 

/ 



T 



WELYE kisses, mamma ! twelve kisses ! 
For every hour of the night I 
For I shall not see you again 



Till the sun is shining bright. 



" I want to say my prayers, 

And we '11 have a little talk ; 
And then go down, dear mother, 

And take a pleasant walk." 

And the little maiden prayed. 

Then went to her snowy bed ; 
" Now give me, dear mother, the prayer-book 

For a hymn," she sweetly said. 

Mamma went down and left her, 

And, later in the night. 
When she came to her own slumbers, — 

'T was a picture fair and bright I 



TWELVE KISSES. 87 

On her snow-white pillow lying 

Was the lovely angel-child, 
Her scarlet robe contrasting 

With her face so pale and mild. 

And her hands held open the prayer-book, 
And her eyes were closed in sleep ! 

God, this flower was only lent, — 
It was too rare to keep ! 




"ASHES TO ASHES, DUST^ TO DUST.'* 

T AY her down softly in the narrow bed 

God's mercy has provided ; and be sure 
To utter low a mild, soft prayer for one 
Whose fair life withered early ; for the blast 
Was keen, with all too little sunshine ; and 
The way was thorny for her tender feet ! 
God ! how sad to he down m the dust 
For one so young, so fair, so full of life ! 
And she was fair and gentle ; and her soul 
Was open to all holy ministries ; 
And earnestly, in early youth, she sought 
The narrow way that leads to heavenly bhss. 
Think of her errors tenderly, and let her sins 
Be cancelled and atoned for, where above 
That high tribunal sits which never errs. 
Meekly she bore, and cheerfully, the cross 
Of suffering sent by the deai' Lord to all 
Who would His kingdom share, and now behold 
Another saint in glory ! Safe, thank God ! 



'CASHES TO ASHES, DUST TO DUST" 89 

Saved, through the blood of sacrifice. Re- 
deemed 
Through that " New Covenant," secure and 

full 
And everlastino; ! On her brow behold 
The amaranthine crown ; and in her hand 
The harp of immortality, full tuned 
To music, which she could not know on eai'th. 

Oh speak her name with tenderness ! and let 
Your hearts grow purer, as ye think of one 
Who, knowing little of this thorny world, 
Laid on God's altar all she had to give. 
And took from Christ what He gave, too, — the 

Cross ! 
Now, with the loving ones who shared her home 
In infancy and childhood, she is found, 
Like them, in garb immortal ! — angel-robed ! 
And the great desolation she has left 
In hearts bereaved that loved her, knows no 

balm 
But what the gracious Comforter doth bring 
To souls that crave Him only ! Gracious Lord, 
Strengthen and lift us up ; and may Thy peace 
Brood o'er the troubled waves of our dark life. 
Oh speak with high authority the words, 
" Where is your faith ? — 'tis I. Be not afraid." 



BY THE WILLOW. 

T^OWN in the cojDse by the willow, 
Low on the rock by the willow, 
A maiden sat, in the cool of the night. 
And her girdle swung loose from her robe of 

wliite. 
And her hair streamed gracefully like the light 
That streams on the breast of the billow. 

Down in the copse by the willow. 
Low on the rock by the willow. 
The maiden murmured a low, sad song. 
And its burden ran thus, " Love, how long 
Shall the fierce war last and the armies throng, 
And I sit alone by the willow ? " 

DoAvn in the copse by the willow, 
Low on the rock by the willow, 
Tliis fair young child with the raven hair 



BY THE WILLOW. 91 

Wept as she thought of her hero there 
Down on the plains where the war-fiends glare, 
With the cold, hard ground for a pillow. 

Down in the copse by the willow. 
Low on the rock by the willow, 
A strong, brave arm is round her thrown, 
A close embrace, a blessing, " My o^vn ! " 
And the beautiful child is no more alone 
Down in the copse by the willow. 

Down in the copse by the willow, 
Low on the rock by the willow. 
They part who have loved ! since the happy 

day 
When childhood's fancies led the way 
To whatever was blithesome and bright and gay. 
Near the lovely copse by the willow. 

Not in the copse by the willow. 
Not now on the rock by the willow. 
They meet once more when the fearful strife 
Has hurried thousands away from life. 
And her stricken heart with w^oe is rife. 

And her breast the strong man's pillow% 



92 



BY THE WILLOW. 



No more in the copse by the willow, 
On the rock by the weeping willow, 
Shall the maiden fair with the raven hair 
Look for her lover to meet her there, 
For the pine-trees sigh o'er his grave, — de- 



spair 



\ 



And the earth is his only pillow. 




RAMBLINGS AT SARATOGA. 

/^N the ascent of the Alps, it is said, when 
the weary pedestrian — fired w^ith the am- 
bition of his class, longing to attain the highest 
point that human will and energy have ever 
mastered — reaches a certain spot midway in 
the regions of air, a seat invites him to re- 
pose, and an inscription to gratitude. It reads 
thus: "Rest, and be thankful." Not thus 
speak the whisperings of ambition. He has 
risen and conquered. But beyond, in the 
cloud regions, lie realms of glorious beauty 
unreached, uncomprehended ; and why should 
wisdom speak of rest and gratitude when so 
much is unpossessed ? 

Thus, in the rugged road of life, when 
youth, energy, genius, with passionate strength 
and seething brain, have barely reached the 
medium of its yearnings, how scornfully to 
wisdom's voice speaks the heart of the strong 



94 R AMBLINGS AT SARATOGA. 

man, " Rest, and be thankful ! " Who speaks 
of rest, when the world with all its kingdoms, 
and the glorj thereof, lie at his feet ? 

" Temptation hath a music for all ears, 
And mad ambition trumpeteth to all;" 

and the fearftd strife bef^een good and evil 
goes on and on, even unto the end ! 

Reflections like these suggested, — how, at 
a place like Saratoga ? How, dear, fair child, 
whose sixteen summers have floated as lightly 
by as the zephyrs that fan your noble brow this 
glorious morning ? Do you think, little one, 
that the Great Babylon has come here to rest ? 
New York in the country, — that is all. 

Wait and see what it means, when the ac- 
cepted twentieth has ushered in the season. 

Now, with the foliage still in the full glory 
of spring, and the rippling water gurgling 
from unsunned depths, with healing powers; 
now that the song of birds can still be heard 
amid the noises, and a cosy chat with a friend 
enjoyed ad libitum, we say, — Hail to thee, 
Saratoga ! the unique, the unparalleled ! Thy 
waters are troubled the livelong summer days, 
and we wait not for friend or angel to give us 
a heahng draught. Alone in thy shady ave- 



I 



RAMBLING S AT SARATOGA. 95 

nues we wander, unattended save by the sweet 
voice of cliildhood, and muse upon the past, or 
reach forth imploring hands to the reveahng 
future ! 

The past ! it comes to us with angel-voices, 
bringing consolation. Within the vail they 
have passed who once trod with us these 
grounds made sacred forever by the remem- 
brance ! And the vision of golden hair, and 
eyes that spoke only of heaven, appears to 
us still from these hills, and tiny arms are 
stretched out in baby glee, with the heavenly 
laugh of infancy ! 

Another vision of a noble girl, with waving 
plume and graceful form, comes over the sea 
of memory. Her laugh rings out on the air, 
her step like the fawn, her noble nature too 
grand in its lofty truthfulness for the crooked 
ways of life, — and God took her ! 

Thus like a benediction come these visions 
of childhood, for they bring no bitterness. By 
the river of life these children stand immortal, 
and drink of waters that bid them live forever ! 

But memory has other and darker themes, 
and they too come from the past, surging like 
torrent waves. We look upward to the heav- 



96 RAMBLING S AT SARATOGA. 

ens, and they give no answer ! — into our own 
hearts, as we stand aghast in the cold darkness, 
asking wherefore ? We have given all we had 
of precious gift^, and we stand alone in shiver- 
ing poverty ! Is there no recompense ? Down 
through the ages come the divine words, " I 
am the Resurrection and the Life." Up from 
the graves of buried friendship and holy love 
shall He who abolished death revive all that 
w^as worthy to us in the history of the past. 
Not a hair shall perish ! — nothing precious can 
die ! " And they shall be mine when I make 
up my jewels." The dross only will be con- 
sumed. The fine gold shall still adorn the 
altar. Give the sacrifice freely, with stead- 
fast eye though bleeding heart. " Pay not 
unto the Lord an ofiering without cost," and, 
in the noble language of the English Lit- 
urgy, the " Sanctifier of the faithful " shall be 
there. 

Scattered about here and there we find 
many a friendly voice and word of cheer. A 
distinguished physician leaves drugs and doses 
behind him, and startles " Union Hall " with 
the exhibition of a pipe from the battle-field of 
Solferino. A most remarkable pipe, which a 



RAMBLINGS AT SARATOGA. 97 

gentleman on shipboard, wishing to possess 
such a treasure before it landed on these au- 
spicious shores, offered five hundred dollars for ; 
then, finding it was worth a fortune, wanted 
to rafile it for a thousand ! It could not be 
bought. A pipe ! 

"Picture it, —think of it I" 

" Why don't you smoke it. Doctor ? " said a 
fair lady at his side. 

" Smoke it, my dear ? I, a married man 
of t^venty years' standing, smoke it ? Why, 
no sooner should I take a whiff, and see the 
curhng smoke in wreaths above my head, 
than right in the midst appears one of you 
exquisite creatures, and there is treason in 
my heart." 

" It gives a man something to live for," said 
Saxe, the poet. " Who could commit suicide, 
owning such a pipe as that ? " 

How can we introduce the beaux and belles 
of Saratoga ? What they do and what they 
wear ? What don't they do ? What don't 
they wear ? They come and go, like the but- 
terflies in their season. The illustrious poet 
aforementioned has given, in immortal song, 

7 



98 RAMBLINGS AT SARATOGA. 

an account of their doings, and what am I 
that I should speak ? 

One of the advantages of Saratoga, and one 
of its greatest attractions to sober-minded peo- 
ple, is, that here you can do as you please. If 
you wish to be a butterfly, you can be. If you 
wish to be a raot!i, you can. If you only 
aspire to belong to the human race of ordinary 
sinners, going about with faculties to use and 
not abuse, — a heart to look kindly on folly, 
yet with an appetite tolerably sharp for wis- 
dom, — come and drink the immortal waters ! 
Stand on the hill-tops and inhale the aroma of 
the pine-trees sighing out their dreamy music ! 
Go into the beautiful cemetery, and see there 
youth, genius, and beauty laid low ! The 
young, fair child, Margaret, Davidson, cut off so 
sadly, and the mournful inscription from her 
touching verses, " To die and be forgotten," 
on her tombstone. " Whom the gods love 
die early." Then go back to the Babel of 
hotel life, and what will you find there to sat- 
isfy this yearning for the unattainable ? Noth- 
ing. But you will find many a noble heart 
and many a crushed spirit longing, as you do, 
for something more ! What is it ? It is God 



RAMBLINGS AT SARATOGA. 99 

saying to His creatures, ^' All flesh is grass, 
and all the goodUness thereof as the flower of 
the field." But " God is good, and grief gra- 
cious " ; and as we are only " pilgrims and 
strangers" at best, we may and we ought to 
carry as much sunshine as we can along this 
dreary pathway, and give a word of hearty 
cheer to all around. 

Drink, then, freely of this balmy mountain 
air ; bring " a heart attuned to Nature, to hold 
communion with her visible forms," and a heart 
also above it, and you will be happy even in 
Saratoga, or rather, and better, blessed. 




"FROZEN MUSIC." 
/ 

UROZEN music ! " What is it ? What beau- 
tiful mind has thrown its scintillations far 
into the unexplored and inexplorable realms 
of fancy, to bring to us this gem ? Madame 
de Stael, the gifted, the unhappy, — with an in- 
tellect ever soaring, ready to grasp, if possible, 
the very infinite, yet with so much of woman's 
natu];e. — gifted with all her true and noble 
instincts, — that she declared herself willing to 
give all this wealth of genius and power for 
beauty ! Why ? That she might be loved ! 
She, the centre of a most brilhant circle, — ad- 
mired, caressed, sought after by the world's 
greatest names, — wanted this, too, this " crown 
of all humanity," with all the rest ! Nay, she 
would give all for this. And therefore she 
was woman, and therefore let her be crowned 
by the united voice of womanhood with immor- 
tal pity. With so much, and yet so little ! 
Was there not one heart for hers to rest upon ? 



''FROZEN MUSIC" 101 

It seems not one. And yet we see she made 
music for us all, with her strange and glorious 
gifts. " Architecture is like frozen music," 
she said ; and whether the comparison be con- 
sidered a quaint conceit, or, as we take it, a 
thought of wonderful beauty, it matters not. 
Memoiy recalls to us now a fairer and purer 
picture than ever was done by mortal hands, 
and suggesting far more than any architecture 
the idea of " frozen music." Can we describe 
it ? With fear and trembling we venture to 
tell what Nature dashed from her glilftering 
caverns o'er the hills and plains and trees 
of Saratoga, one splendid night in January, 
Absorbed in sad and dreamy memories, a dear 
friend touched us lightly, saying, " What ! so 
much beauty, and dreaming here ? Look out 
into the moonlight and see." Never shall that 
vision of loveliness pass away. 

" A thing of beauty is a joy forever." 

Never shall that hour be forgotten. Down 
streamed the pale moonlight over hill and 
grove. On the tops of the tall pines were 
clumps of snow, artistically tufted like plumes 
of the eagle's crest. On the tops of the tall 
oaks and elms, and streaming from their 



102 '^ FROZEN music:' 

branches, were silvery fringes and veils of 
frost - work, — drooping, melting slowly, — 
weeping thus their tears over the perishing 
glory of this holy night ; while far off in the 
distance was a slender, frail tree, alm-ost ob- 
scured by the surrounding strong ones, — 
yet not the less observed, — in a misty veil 
of transparent thinness, stretching forth her 
fragile arms as if to ask protection from the 
mighty, — like a fair and lovely girl whose 
shrinking modesty defends her, and appeals 
alike to God and man for strength not her own. 
All over this fleeting beauty was the almost 
visible presence of Him who said, '' Let light 
be, and light was." All over the heavens was 
the white moonlight. All over the earth was 
the white carpet of snow, bathed in the moon- 
light's splendor. Close beside us stood a friend 
of many years, gazing with a poet's eye upon 
all this, and drinking in the inspiration. Un- 
consciously we whispered, " Frozen music ! " 
And standing thus, we gazed until the change 
that comes to all earthly things touched the 
fair vision, and we turned mournfully away, 
with the ever-recurring feeling, " The great joys 
of the Lord do not last ! " Then higher rose 



" FROZEN music:' 103 

our thoughts and to hoUer things, — aye, to 
the very Presence that created all this beauty ; 
and the benediction of that hour still remains, 
and will remain, the touching remembrance of 
that guiding and ever comforting Spirit which 
led us then from the mournfulness of this perish- 
ing beauty to " the contemplation of the great 
White Throne and Him that sits thereon, be- 
fore whose glory the heavens and the earth 
flee away." 

Madame de Stael, with whose words this 
theme began, — let us thank her. Over her 
weaknesses draw the veil of charity, and bow 
reverently as we name her, — true genius, and 
true woman ! 




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